in which it has finally departed; and has left nothing behind, but a corpse; to which the animating principle will return no more. All these diversities exist in spiritual death. Among those, who are thus dead, there are some, who may be restored, if the balsam of life should be administered in time by the great Physician. Of these it cannot be truly said, that all hopes of their restoration are gone forever. Of some there are hopes, that life may yet return, and reanimate their souls. The remedy, however, lies not within the skill of man. Christ alone can save them

from dying forever.

But there are others, who are not only apparently, but finally, dead. These, indeed, we are unable to distinguish from others, who are in a state less desperate. Nor was it intended, nor is it necessary, that we should thus distinguish them. Every one may know, and if he open his eyes cannot but know, that, so long as he exhibits no signs of returning life, he is now dead. His soul is a corpse. Life has gone from it. It has become putrid; loathsome; and, to the eye of GOD, an abomination, which he cannot away with." Should this continue to be its condition; it will soon be buried in the eternal grave; the seat of endless darkness, solitude and corruption. Who, let me ask, of the present assembly is in this dreadful condition?

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You cannot say, you cannot believe, that you have not been warned of your danger. Sabbath by sabbath you have been admonished, in the presence of God, to awake from your sleep, and arise from the dead that you might receive from the hands of Christ the light of life. But you can say, and will one day be forced to say, that "you have set at naught all this counsel of GOD, and despised his reproof." In the presence of that awful Being you loudly declare, that "you will not have him to reign over you." "Who," you boldly ask, "is the Almighty, that we should serve him?" Of all this your conduct furnishes flaming proof; proof, which cannot be unseen, which cannot be mistaken. Who, that sees you sleep, and whisper, and nod, and point to others; and laugh, and loll, and read books of diversion; and do any thing, and every thing, rather than spend your time in wor

shipping God, and seeking salvation, could imagine, that your Creator, Preserver, and Judge, was present to see himself, his Son, his Spirit, his Word, his Ordinances, thus insulted? Who could believe, that these were creatures, now in a state of probation; soon to die; soon to be judged by that God; and soon to enter on a state of everlasting reward for this very conduct? Who, much more, could imagine, that every one of them perfectly knew all these awful truths?

Who could believe, that every one of them had been taught the doctrines and duties of Religion by the tenderest, and most affectionate, of all human instructors; their own beloved parents? Who could believe, that they began to be taught the existence, character and presence, of God; their own sin, danger and duty; the way of salvation by Christ; the glory of heaven, and the miseries of hell; from the cradle; and that, ever since they could understand any thing of a moral nature, they have heard them all repeated weekly in the house of their Maker? Such, however, has been the fact. They have all been thus taught, and repeated; and your stupidity has long overcome them all. It is therefore, deep, fixed, and dreadful. It has been assumed also, and cherished, in spite of all the blessings, in defiance of all the warnings, of God's providence; of your own dangers, distresses and deliverances. You have been cultivated with no common care and have been reasonably expected to bring forth good and abundant fruit. What reason have you to tremble, lest GoD should speedily say; nay lest he should now say; "Behold these three years I come, seeking fruit on this fig-tree, and find none. Cut it down why cumbereth it the ground?"

II. There is still room to hope that among you there may in the end be found some youths of Nain; some, who, though now dead, and to the human eye lost and gone forever, may yet be restored to life.

Christ is alway passing by, alway pursuing the glorious purposes of his mercy. It cannot, I trust, be a presumptuous hope, that towards some, towards at least a few of this assembly, he may exercise his boundless compassion; and before they go

hence, to be no more seen, and no more invited to embrace eternal life, may say unto each of this little number, “Young man, arise." It is true, you have long "denied him," and are now "ashamed to confess him, before men." It is true, that you des pise his character, disregard his mission, reject his instructions, disobey his precepts, and contemn his ordinances. It is true, that you insult his goodness and mercy, trample on his cross, and renew his agonies. But "the ways of Christ are not your ways. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are his ways higher than your ways, and his thoughts than your thoughts." Hence, notwithstanding all your rebellion, and all your stupidity he has cried from the beginning, and still cries, "Seek ye the Lord, while he may be found, call ye upon him, while he is near. Let the wicked man forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and let him return unto the LORD; for he will have mercy upon him, and to our GOD; for he will abundantly pardon." He died, with the complete foreknowledge of all the guilt and grossness which I have rehearsed: yet he died. The Spirit of Grace began to strive, with the same foreknowledge of the same guilt. Still he strives with you. Still with a voice, sweeter than that of angels, he whispers to you daily, "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" It is, therefore, no unreasonable thing to hope, that, notwithstanding the blessings which you have abused, have been very great, notwithstanding your sins are of no common dye, Christ may still extend mercy to some of your number; and may say to one, and another, "Young man, arise."

But who shall these be? Who shall be those, to whom he will not say this? Which of you is prepared to have him leave you entirely? During the ministry of Christ there were in Judea many youths, who died. Of these possibly not one was recalled to life. Their dust was left by him to "return to the earth as it was, and their spirits to ascend to God, who gave them." The allusion needs no comment.

Suppose this glorious person, this divine Redeemer, to be once more present in the world; and to come into this assembly; to pass through yonder aisle; and to say to one, and another, of

the youths before me, "Young man, I say unto thee, Arise," What emotions would spring up in the minds of those, who were neglected and forgotten? Would you then loll in stupid inattention; lay down your heads, as if benumbed with the torpor of an opiate; and sleep the sleep of Death? Would you then turn the house of GOD into a chamber of amusement; cast a rolling stare around the assembly; whisper to one of your companions; laugh with another; and play tricks with a third. Or would you take out of your pockets a sportive book; and waste the golden hours of life over a play, or a novel?

On the contrary, would not all the powers of your souls be awake? Would you not sit in dreadful suspense, till the solemn calls were finished; and in more dreadful agitation, when they were over : while Christ and hope withdrew together, to return no more? What an awful alarm would the very news, that he was thus coming, sound in your ears? How strongly would the tidings resemble the sound of the last trumpet, calling to the dead to awake to the final judgment. At his entrance, how would every eye be fixed on him in solemn amazement, and bewildered terror? How would the ear listen, and labour, to catch his voice? How would the heart of him, who was passed by, beat, and throb, and heave, with agonizing throes, to behold one, and another, and another, called; and no sweet, life-giving sound addressed to himself? How fearfully would every new name seem to be the last; and leave on the mind no faint image of the despair, awakened by the sentence of reprobation at the final day?

But Christ is now present in this assembly. Hear his own words, "Wherever two or three are met together in my name, there am I in the midst of them." On this very design is he come. His great business, here, is to call one and another from the dead. He has in this land, he has in this Seminary, actually raised multitudes from spiritual death; and endued them with that life, which is the beginning of immortal life in the heavens. In one place, and another, immense multitudes have heard and obeyed his voice. All these have opened their ears to inhale the enchanting sound; and cried out with ecstasy, "Lord, we will follow thee whithersoever thou goest."

But now no alarms are felt concerning the state of death and ruin, so generally experienced. No voice reanimates, no voice awakens, this assembly. A paralytic torpor has seized on their faculties; and stopped the current of consciousness, motion, and life. In vain the law thunders the terrors of Mount Sinai. In vain it proclaims the more awful terrors of the final day. In vain the Gospel sounds with the spirit of heaven. In vain the inhabitants of that world sing the celestial song, "Behold, I bring you glad tidings of great joy, which shall be unto all people: for unto you is born, this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, who is Christ the Lord." In vain this divine Saviour becomes incarnate, lives, and acts, heals the sick, cleanses the leper, and raises the dead, before your eyes. In vain he presents his perfect example: a glorious copy of the divine character; a sun, without a spot; a heaven, without a cloud; the splendour of immortal and uncreated light. In vain he utters the wisdom, treasured up from eternity in the Self-existent Mind. In vain he agonizes in the garden of Gethsemane, and sweats drops of blood. In vain he ascends the cross, opens his wounds, and yields his spirit into the hands of his Father. In vain he bursts the tomb, rises from the dead, and ascends "to the right hand of the Majesty on high." All this fails, not merely to engross the soul, but even to rouse attention. The soul is asleep; the faculties are benumbed ; the senses have lost their power of perception; the heart has forgotten to feel, and the pulse to beat. All around is a charnel house; a place of graves; a region of silence, oblivion, and despair. He, who beholds the scene, is tempted irresistibly to exclaim, "Can these dry bones live?"

The joy of heaven over repenting sinners has ceased to be renewed here. From this Seminary no tidings of faith and repentance, in those who inhabit its walls, reach the world above. In that happy region, where the tidings of a returning sinner awaken a sublime and universal festival, all is solemn silence concerning us; accompanied, perhaps, with a despair of seeing their society enlarged by new accessions of sanctified minds, from this once highly favoured place.